Speed of Light Read Online Free

He carried the guilt of those years in his whitened hair and the lines around his eyes.
    “Have you been here long?” I asked, hugging hellos.
    “She woke early this morning needing to make six kinds of pie.” Tony smiled toward Juliet and pointed ata stack of old books on the table. “I brought reading.” The soft strains of Irish folk ballads floated in the background. Pies of cherry, peach, sugar cream, and pecan lined the counter. The crusts were flaky and perfect. I knew she’d done it all by hand, even the tiny pastry birds on the top of the cherry pies and branches on the peach.
    “Are you going to tell us why Rumi insisted we meet early?” I asked.
    “Nope.” Tony grinned. “His show.”
    I shrugged and snagged an extra piece of dough Juliet covered in butter and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar before baking.
Heaven in a bite
.
    We’d settled into a rhythm of weekly dinners together, mostly on Sunday afternoons and evenings.
    “Can I help?” I asked Juliet gently. I might very well cut off a finger, but I would do anything to get her to open up to me. Anything at all.
    Juliet shook her head no, her braid swishing down her back. “I’ve got it.” Unfortunately, she continued to skitter like a shy wild animal around us. Occasionally, I glimpsed strength and reasoning in her that Auntie would be proud of. However, her anger simmered below the surface, ready to boil again. She needed time and routine. And her Protector.
Does she have one?
I grinned at Tens, who listened intently to Rumi’s meandering story.
What would I do without Tens?
Before Tens, I had been as lost and angry as Juliet.
    I grabbed a specialty Stewart’s grape soda out of thefridge, holding one out to Juliet as well. We loved grape anything. Rumi preferred his food in glass containers, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him cans of grape Faygo were easier to stock and were tastier.
Artificial grape goodness, the more purple the better
.
    I know Rumi and Tony believed they were educating us, but mainly they entertained us with their antics. We counted on these family dinners to continue building our relationships and to share news. They’d grown into recitation times of stories and poems, each of us trying to outdo the others with our theatrics and selections. Tony and Rumi took their job as self-appointed mentors to new levels. The two now leaned toward each other over a flattened map.
    “Juliet, can you come out of the kitchen? Join us? We need to chin-wag, talk,” Rumi called, his voice serious.
    About what?
I glanced at Tens. His expression was as confused as mine.
    Juliet’s comfort level visibly dipped as she dropped next to me on the couch. When Custos brushed the swinging door open and Minerva marched in beside her, I knew we were embarking on a potentially scary conversation.
They only show up for serious business
.
    At Tony’s nod, Rumi said, “We’ve been expatiating about your futures. We think you children need to have a perdurable, an everlasting, education.”
    “We are not going to high school.” Horrified, I shrank back at the thought. “You can’t possibly think—”
    “You can’t make me.” Tens crossed his arms.
    Juliet simply paled further, withdrawing against the sofa.
    Tony held up his hands. “No rioting. Just hear us out.” He motioned for us to relax.
    I wasn’t the only one perched on the edge of my seat ready to bolt.
High school? They’ve cracked up. The pressure is too much and they’ve lost their minds. I remember the uniform, the name-calling, the pinches and shoves
. Not a single pleasant memory of school lingered.
    “We’re not enrolling any of you at Carmel High School,” Tony said, but his glance at Juliet seemed to say it wouldn’t be a bad idea.
    At least I’d had some school; she’d been ostracized her entire life, hidden away until she became a viable Fenestra. Her eyes flashed what seemed like a warning to me.
What?
    Rumi unrolled a long white parchment scroll and